Banksy banana mastermind?

Friday, March 14, 2014

nUMBER S

Sometimes at the end of it all, you’re left
feeling a bit hollow. This is a different feeling than that of
loneliness. It’s a juxtaposition of two personalities into the same
space. They are there, but they are only there. The water bottle and
the magnet eventually came to know each other. Disagreements and fights
never happened, but at the cost of unmeasured love dozing organized and
succinct in the cupboard. Juliet screamed. Juliet cried. John slept
facing the other direction. And life continued, the shadow of
commercials and sitcoms staining their eyes and hearts. Everything was
fine, and most things only hurt a little. Spring hadn’t come in years,
and its fragrance of birth and vitality was replaced by fabric softener
and greeting cards. The floor, bathroom, garage, kitchen, bedroom,
everything- spotless, silent, and in order. Let the chords fall and
fade, their message undelivered and forgotten. We’ve made it ourselves,
this glaze. We have air, but we suffocate. We have food, but we
starve. We have friends, but we know no one. We need........ let
us.....

Forward.
Stepping. My neck is turning and I look up into the rafters,
straining to see some sort of direction or explanation. It's snowing
sideways outside, and the high mountain wind is fierce. Out there,
everything is hostile. In here, it's mostly unknown. My parka is very
warm, but it's all I've got and the moment I open the doors, I'm
starting a journey that could last for as long as I'm alive. Even in a
storm as violent as this, it's silent. Far off on the horizon the
clouds become thin until eventually the sky is clear and the moon is
bright. But here- where I am now- the white sleep is relentless and
angry, thickening near the pass. Solitude's first cousin is the cold,
and their reunion steadies my gaze, but races my breath. My fingers
sting, my heart beats, and I am alive.

My eyes are lasers and my heart is real. My eyes are lasers and my heart is real.